


our kingdom is gone

by Rethira



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Rethira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when ganondorf is a teenager with a mad fury just beginning to burn in his eyes, a tired blond man spots him across the market square</p>
            </blockquote>





	our kingdom is gone

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to expand on [this](http://kratosaurioned.tumblr.com/post/116249278150/a-zelda-reincarnation-romance)
> 
> Link is thirteen years older than Ganondorf, and Ganondorf is one year older than Zelda.

They say his soul is too old for a small, quiet farming village. He’s young yet, and he herds the sheep and milks the cows alongside all the other children. He’s a little older than they are, born slightly out of time with the rest of his generation; no-one knows his parents. He’d turned up one day, tucked between two empty milk cans on a cart heading home from the market, and despite searching the nearby towns and villages, no-one ever came forward to claim him. He was raised by the entire village, passed around a bit more than a babe really should have been. Even now he drifts from house to house – most of the people in the village have a little cot set aside for him. Some even have a spare room.

But there is something old about Link, and they all know it.

He’d been a quiet infant. Large blue eyes and soft golden hair – he’d charmed half the village by the end of the first day, but those eyes... they saw through you. Maybe that was why he’d been passed around so much; loved, yes, because it was impossible not to love him, but no-one could bear those eyes watching them for too long.

He’d grown up kind, at least. Gentle, and often distant, like he was thinking thoughts too big for himself. Helpful too, and they’d all been thankful for it when Link was joined by a gaggle of other children. Being slightly older than the rest, he was often relied upon to keep an eye on them and make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble.

For all that though, he is still different. Loved and reliable, but not one of the village.

One day, he’ll leave, and they all know it.

Link’s old soul wasn’t made for this, after all.

 

He’s twenty when he goes; it’s later than everyone expects. Even Link feels he should have left earlier. It’s like there’s an itch beneath his skin. There’s something he should be doing, and he just hasn’t learnt what it is yet.

Link takes his sword, his bow and his horse and heads out into the wilderness.

 

Sometimes, stories make it back to the village. They tell of a blond man, a sword strapped to his back and a bow that sings in his hands. He passes through like a wraith – there one day and gone the next. Kind, they always say, always far too kind. He slays monsters where they trouble people, or gathers rupees for those who need them. Once, the stories say, he travelled across Hyrule just to get someone their favourite food.

The stories are infrequent; too often they’re replaced with talk of the young Princess.

She’s only young, but there are already the mutterings of war. Her father is so very old, after all – the young Princess Zelda was a happy accident, they all say, but one who may well tear Hyrule apart.

The succession was to be passed to the King’s brother. By all accounts, he is just as good a man as the King is, and his children – two sons and a daughter – are all older than the Princess. He’s younger than the King is, so there is a good chance he could rule for a few stable years, and even if he doesn’t, his eldest son is of an age to rule.

 _What_ , the people ask, _what does a child know of ruling?_

There are still those that would support her. She is the trueborn daughter of the King, and there are rumours that she has truesight as well. Though none of her nurses or maids will confirm it, rumours abound that she bears the mark of the goddesses upon her hand, surely a sign that her rule would be blessed.

In the midst of all this, is it any surprise that the tales of a blond youth go unnoticed?

 

It is many years before he meets the Gerudo boy.

It is an accident; Link is visiting the town, wrapped in a cloak and hood to protect him from the wind and sand. He holds his horse on a loose rein and barters for fresh fruit. Nearby, there is a fortune-teller’s tent. Link hardly notices it. Around here, there are often fortune-tellers. Some tell the truth. Most do not. Link has found that those who see the truth can hardly bear to tell him; better to avoid them all, and not cause an upset.

There is an upset anyway; a wealthy looking Hylian, inappropriately dressed for the heat or the desert, stumbles from the tent.

He shouts, “Thieves! Liars! I demand you return my money!”

There’s a snarl, and then a boy, a boy on the cusp of adulthood storms out. His hair is as red as fire, and his skin is Gerudo dark; Link’s breath catches in his throat.

The Gerudo youth wraps a hand around the Hylian’s throat. “You _dare_ ,” he growls, “you _dare_ accuse my _mother-_ ”

A woman leaves the tent and hurries to the youth’s side. She lays a hand on his shoulder and murmurs something Link is too far away to hear. The youth’s face falls and he tosses the man aside. He turns sharply on his heel and storms away – he does not even notice Link.

Link is twenty-nine and thinks that maybe, for the first time, he wants something for himself.

 

He isn’t hard to find – the village is small, and he’s left a trail of uneasy looking people behind him. Link passing through with his horse just rattles them further; this far out from Castle Town, people rarely have money or time for horses, especially not horses as large as Epona is. Only a few have ever even seen a working horse, and she’s enough to make them scatter as Link leads her through the narrow streets.

The youth is on the edge of the village, where the land gives way to sand and dust. He looks up as Link approaches – the scowl on his face melts away when he sets eyes on Link.

“And who are you?” he snaps.

Link shrugs and tugs down his hood. The youth stiffens slightly when he notes Link’s ears – there are few Hylians this close to the desert, but those few are hardly kind towards the few Gerudo that remain. It’s... sad. They are people too.

The youth gets to his feet, drawing himself up as tall as he can. His scowl returns when he realises Link is still slightly taller than he is. “Come to stare at the-” He bites off the rest of his sentence and snarls.

Link shakes his head slowly and holds out his hand, palm up. The youth stares at it. “What,” he starts, voice rough with barely constrained anger, “you want your palm read?”

Link shakes his head again and licks his lips. His voice is cracked with disuse when he asks, “Give me your hand?”

The boy’s nose wrinkles – he looks very young. His hands clench into fists, and then he places his hand in Link’s. There’s a bandage wrapped around his palm; Link brushes his thumb over the boy’s knuckles. They’re a little red, as though he’s been punching things, but the youth doesn’t hiss or withdraw his hand at Link’s touch.

He starts when Link bows his head, and jumps outright when Link kisses his knuckles.

“What are you _doing_?” he growls. His hand clenches tight around Link’s – it’s a large hand, a man’s hand. Larger than Link’s is. One day this boy, this youth... one day he will be tall, far taller than Link is.

Link smiles and says, “If you want to leave, I’ll be waiting by the well at nightfall. Bring only what you need.”

The youth’s eyes narrow. Maybe he will refuse to leave, but it will make no difference.

Link could no more leave without him than tear the sun from the sky.

 

He does come, eventually. It is well past nightfall, and Epona is restless and eager to move on. Link has busied himself with the village’s stray cats – all of them are happy to be stroked in exchange for a rare bite of fresh fish.

The boy is dressed simply, in traditional Gerudo clothes. There’s a cape wrapped loosely around his shoulders, and his hair has been tied back in a long braid. His hand is still wrapped, but in a darker cloth now. He looks ready for travel – Link smiles.

“Don’t think this means anything,” the boy snaps, tossing his head. “I would have left this place soon anyway.”

Link nods and turns to mount Epona. He offers a hand down to the youth; he’s staring askance at Epona. Too much to hope he’s ridden before.

“What’s your name?” the youth asks.

“Link.”

“Hn. You can call me Ganondorf.”

A heavy name for one so young, but... maybe he’ll grow into it.

Ganondorf takes Link’s hand and allows himself to be hauled up onto Epona’s back. She flicks her ears and tosses her head, unused to the extra weight, but remains steady and still until Ganondorf has settled. His hands rest tentatively on Link’s waist.

“Hold on,” Link says, and gives Ganondorf only a moment to tighten his grip before nudging Epona into a trot.

Ganondorf falls off before they’re five minutes out of town, and glares frightfully at Epona when Link turns her back to collect him.

This time, Ganondorf holds on as tightly as a Like Like; when he next falls off, he manages to take Link down with him.

 

At first, Ganondorf seems only to delight in being out of the village. It had not been his home; the Gerudo no longer have a home. Most say it was consumed by the desert, along with the rest of the Gerudo themselves. Only a handful survived, they say. Link doesn’t know how much he believes it. He had seen ruins in the desert, and while most had been scoured clean by the sand and wind, here and there a few buildings still bore the signs of fire.

Ganondorf does not seem to claim the desert as home either – he is delighted by the smallest things of Hyrule. A cool breeze, the winding stream. Birds in the trees and grass beneath his feet. He loses his sandals on the road and it takes Link weeks to convince him to acquire a new pair.

There are other things he takes joy in; fighting seems to be the main one. He was never trained with sword or bow, but there is a strange strength in him, so he seems to need neither. The first time Link takes him into a monster infested cavern, Ganondorf leaps from Epona’s back and charges into a group of waiting bokoblins. They shriek and chatter, and Ganondorf hits one so hard it sails clear through the air and slams against the wall. Ganondorf laughs, loud and wild, and tears into the group with only his bare hands to defend him.

Only once does he come close to injury, and all it takes to prevent it is a well-placed arrow loosed from Link’s bow.

Ganondorf turns with a snarl at the sound of the arrow flying through the air. “I would have killed it!”

Link bows his head in acknowledgement, before leading Ganondorf further into the cave. There are traps within, built many ages ago, for all they are still as deadly as they ever were. Ganondorf hardly seems to have the patience for them, and more than once Link has to place a restraining hand on his arm or shoulder and so prevent Ganondorf from charging blindly into danger.

The first time, Ganondorf all but rips his arm away from Link and asks, angrily, “Why do you stop me?”

He settles when Link gestures to the ceiling; there’s a rack of spikes hanging there, ready to fall, and a trip wire placed only scant inches from Ganondorf’s feet.

“Let me,” Link asks, and then it takes only minutes for him to clear the room of any dangers. Ganondorf leans against the wall, scowling while he waits. As soon as Link motions for him to follow, he storms over – had the traps still been active, he would have activated no less than three.

Subsequent rooms prove more satisfying for him; Link lets him deal with any monsters, keeping an eye out for any that might take him by surprise, or for any traps Ganondorf might inadvertently activate.

It is... pleasant.

There is a monstrous spider lurking in the depths of the cave. Normally, Link could expect a difficult battle against such a creature – this time, Ganondorf leaps onto its back and starts pounding at its carapace until it cracks open. He looks almost ready to tear into the spider’s insides with his bare and bandaged hands, a mad fury burning in his eyes, but he looks around when Link whistles, and catches the sword that Link throws him.

The spider shrieks when Ganondorf buries the blade inside it, huge legs trying to brush Ganondorf from its back, but Link still has his bow and fires arrow after arrow into its eight terrible eyes, until at last it collapses to the ground, lifeless.

Ganondorf rises from its back, spattered in blood and gore, Link’s sword clutched carelessly in his fist; he has never looked so _alive_.

The treasure hardly seems to matter to him afterwards; Link collects it quietly, and they leave.

 

Link is thirty-two when the King dies, and Ganondorf nineteen. He’s taller than Link now, by a fair margin, and seems set to grow even taller. He has his own horse now, a great black gelding, stolen from the stables of Hyrule’s guard. For a few months after its acquisition, they’d been chased across Hyrule by men seeking to take the horse back – they’d stopped eventually, when Ganondorf finally became tired of running. He’d leapt from his horse’s back, and when the guards had fallen upon him, he’d ripped them from their horses too.

Link and Ganondorf are good together; the itch beneath Link’s skin is quieter now, calmer, for all it still hasn’t quite disappeared.

Ganondorf asked him, once, what Link was searching for.

Link had smiled at him, a little sadly, and replied, “I don’t know.”

With the death of the King, Ganondorf laughs. “About time,” he says. “We’ve been waiting for him to die for years.”

He means _we, the Gerudo_. They have not seen his family in years, but Ganondorf will always love them. It is a love that sometimes turns to fury, to a deep and unquenchable rage, but it is still love.

“It will be good,” he continues, absently looking over a fruit seller’s goods, “to have a Queen on the throne.”

A man nearby turns at that, evidently having overheard, and says, “A Queen? No no, the King’s _brother_ is to inherit.”

Ganondorf’s lip curls. “Do they still insist on that? _She_ is meant to rule, this Princess Zelda. No second son of a king should take her place!”

The man looks offended, angry, and he spits, “Should’ve known no thieving Gerudo scum would understand these matters!”

Link draws his sword before Ganondorf can move; the sound of it makes them both freeze, although Link makes no motion with it. “Don’t speak to him like that,” Link says.

It’s not unexpected when the man mutters, “Gerudo-lover,” under his breath – this time, no force in Hyrule could possibly stop Ganondorf from punching the man, so Link doesn’t even try.

The man flies into a market stall, and everyone turns to stare at Ganondorf, if they weren’t staring at him already. His height, his hair and his skin all make him stand out, and throwing people across the market square hardly helps.

Link rests a hand on Ganondorf’s arm and murmurs, “Let’s go.”

Ganondorf rolls his shoulders and follows Link out. His hands stay clenched until they reach their horses, and it isn’t until he’s mounted his horse – named Black Beauty, for his colour and grace – that he finally relaxes.

 

Everyone expects a war. They are _waiting_ for a war. Hyrule will split itself between Zelda and her uncle, and they will be glad for it, because they _believe_.

And then, a few days after her eighteenth birthday, Zelda disappears.

 

The first rumours insist that she was kidnapped, but a few of her loyal maids put paid to that idea soon enough. She left, they all say, of her own accord. She left because she loved Hyrule and she loved her uncle, and she could not bear to see her home and her family torn apart on her account.

It makes Ganondorf angry, when they hear it. _She_ had the right to rule. _She_ should take the throne. If anyone should flee in the night, it should have been her uncle, and may the goddesses blame him for the loss of the Princess.

He is so passionate it sometimes takes Link’s breath away.

Ganondorf paces around their camp, black mood following him like a thundercloud, snarling and spitting curses, always angry, so _angry_. It scares Link, how angry Ganondorf can get. He takes longer and longer to calm; there is a raging inferno in his centre, a blaze that must surely one day escape.

Link does not mind getting his fingers burnt.

He leads their way down to Castle Town – they have only been a few times, and each has been filled with suspicion and mistrust. Ganondorf does nothing to hide himself. Rather, he flaunts his fiery hair and nut brown skin. He still wears traditional Gerudo dress, and so wanders all but bare-chested around Hyrule, only ever giving in to more sensible clothing whenever Link leads him into the frozen mountains of the west. Ganondorf can never be mistaken for something he is not, and Link suspects he would have it no other way.

They attract the attention of the city guard, and a few trail them as they wander the streets. Ganondorf is tense, and every mention of Zelda or the new King makes him tense further. Eventually, he shoves Link aside and leads instead of following. Link smiles; Ganondorf was not made to follow.

“Hurry up,” Ganondorf calls – people stare and mutter and whisper as they pass, until Ganondorf turns on them with a growl of rage.

“Calm yourself,” Link murmurs, reaching for Ganondorf as he has so many times before.

Ganondorf shrugs him off with a grunt, and storms towards the temple, where they can at least be assured of quiet.

“Why did you bring me here?” Ganondorf asks. “Do you _enjoy_ seeing them mock me?”

“No,” Link replies. He does not have other words to give.

Ganondorf sits down on a pew with enough force to shake it; anger pours from his very being. He glares at Link from under furrowed brows and asks, not for the first time, “Why did you ask me to come with you that day?”

Link smiles. It is the only answer he has ever had for that question.

Ganondorf huffs. Some of the anger leaves him, just a little. “They are pathetic,” he mutters. “Weak, and spineless, and _blessed_.” He spits the last word. “They do not know all they have, they do not _know-_ ” He gets to his feet again, kicking out at one of the pews, cracking it.

“We can leave,” Link offers. There are always more places to explore, always more monsters for Ganondorf to fight. He can batter them with his anger as much as he pleases, and there will be no fear of reprisal.

“No,” Ganondorf snaps. Quieter, he repeats, “No. I would know where this Princess has fled. I would know what she intends to do with her life now, such as it is.”

Link shrugs and rises to his feet. Ganondorf’s too tall now for Link to comfort with a hand on his head or shoulder, but a gentle touch to the small of his back softens him slightly.

“Then we will stay,” Link murmurs.

 

Three months after her disappearance, Zelda’s retainer reveals that the Princess had long been haunted by terrible dreams, and that these dreams were likely another reason for her disappearance. Ganondorf had scowled even deeper than usual, and decided suddenly that they would find nothing more in Castle Town.

Link is glad to get moving again – the itch is back, the urge to be _doing_ rather than waiting. It is still not as bad as it was, but worse than it has been since meeting Ganondorf. As soon as they leave Castle Town it eases, and once Link gives Epona her head, he can almost ignore the itch completely. Black Beauty and Ganondorf race ahead of them, the long tail of Ganondorf’s braid whipping in the wind – this is freedom.

Ganondorf leads them north, towards the desert. It is a little surprise; he has never once expressed a desire to return there. Often he has claimed to be glad to be rid of it.

Yet now he urges his horse on faster, until Link actually has to shout out to get Ganondorf to slow. Black Beauty’s sides are heaving and shaking, and Ganondorf looks both angry and... horrified, in a way. They make camp away from the roads, and Link tends the horses with gentle hands.

Ganondorf sits by the fire and picks at his bandaged hand. In three years, Link has never seen what it conceals. Ganondorf does not speak of it, and Link knows there are sometimes things you must not ask about.

It’s rare to catch Ganondorf in a pensive mood. He is usually loud and unmissable, reckless in his confidence. Something has shaken him, enough so that he startles when Link finally sits beside him.

“You... where did you come from?” Ganondorf asks.

Link doubts he means just now. “The east,” Link replies. “A small village. It was quiet, always quiet there. There were sheep and cows, and we grew potatoes and pumpkins.” He smiles distantly. “They were very kind to me.”

After a beat of silence, Ganondorf asks, “Why did you leave?”

Link shrugs. “I couldn’t stay.”

Ganondorf must understand that. He looks back to the fire, and for a moment he looks older than his nineteen years. Perhaps this is what the other villagers meant, when they said Link had a soul too old for his body.

“Will you ever go back?” Ganondorf asks.

Link pauses. Eventually, he shakes his head. “There’s nothing left for me there,” he murmurs.

They sit quietly for a time, watching the fire. Eventually, Link rises and sets about making something to eat. Ganondorf tugs at his bandage, his brow furrowed. He eats in silence, until finally he asks, “Will you leave me as well?”

Link smiles and pats Ganondorf’s hand. “I could never,” he replies.

The heat blazing Ganondorf’s eyes is not anger, this time. It’s... something else.

Ganondorf doesn’t act on it that night, nor the next, but one day he will. One day he will.

 

Ganondorf’s village is mostly unchanged, save for one thing.

The Gerudo have moved on.

He’s unsurprised. The Gerudo have been nomadic ever since they lost their home, and this small village was not kind to them. They glare and mutter when Ganondorf rides in, starkly different to the figure he was when he left.

For one thing, he no longer falls off his horse whenever it moves into anything faster than a trot.

They don’t stay in the village for long. Ganondorf only asks about newcomers, and he’s tall and strong and fearsome enough that the people tell him there aren’t any. They move on to the next, and the next after that, until finally a street urchin says, “A youth came through a few days ago. Blond, with Hylian ears, but his skin was dark, like he’d been in the desert.”

They turn Epona and Black Beauty free before entering the desert proper – it is no place for horses. The pair stare after them, and Epona whinnies sadly, but neither Link nor Ganondorf turn back. They will be fine. Epona is of draught horse stock, long since descended from Hyrule’s powerful war horses, and Black Beauty is one of those self-same war horses. Both love their masters dearly, and will not be caught nor caged by anyone else.

Their second night in the desert, Ganondorf turns roughly to Link and says, “You’ve been here before. Lead me.”

He does not weep when Link shows him the ruins of the Gerudo. His shoulders tense, his fists clench, and he bares his teeth, but he does not weep.

“So,” he says, “it was fire that destroyed the Gerudo.”

Link inclines his head; out of the corner of his eye, he spies movement, and has loosed an arrow towards it before Ganondorf can draw his sword. There is no cry of pain, but one of surprise, and by that time Ganondorf is moving with uncanny speed towards it.

The arrow caught the person’s hood, and has them pinned to a crumbling wall. Ganondorf catches them by the arm, drags them into the light. Their hood tears away, revealing a head of shorn blond hair and the same pointed ears as Link.

“And who is this?” Ganondorf asks. He tilts their chin up with one finger, revealing piercing blue eyes. A terrible smile spreads across Ganondorf’s face, and he hisses, “ _Zelda_ ,” like one possessed.

“ _You_ ,” Zelda replies, and the anger in her voice is just as evident as it was in Ganondorf’s.

Ganondorf drops her arm when Link touches him; his eyes blaze with a rage Link has never seen, and for a moment- for a moment Link doesn’t know him, and he doesn’t know Link.

There’s an urge, unexpected and powerful, to raise his sword, raise his bow, to fight this- this monster masquerading as a man.

It leaves as quickly as it had arrived, and Link feels sick with the memory of it.

“Ganondorf,” he says, his voice cracking, and the madness clears abruptly from Ganondorf’s eyes.

“I- what was I....” He turns back to Zelda and shouts, “You did this! You seek to turn us upon each other, to twist us into _beasts-_ ”

She’s shaking her head, no, no, but Link can almost see it. A wolf he knows is himself, with proud blue eyes, and a monstrous boar; Ganondorf, twisted out of all recognition.

“It is always _you_ ,” Zelda cries out. “It is always _you_ who turns upon us, always _you_ who twists Hyrule around you! Link, you must not trust him! I have seen- in my dreams, I have seen! He will destroy you, us, he will destroy Hyrule!”

There is a ring of truth to her words, for all they are nonsensical. It’s as though now she has said it, it cannot help but be true, though Link knows that Ganondorf loves Hyrule – down to his very bones, he loves Hyrule.

There is an ugly set to Ganondorf’s features; he spits, “As though you are any better, _Princess_. You who have abandoned your throne, your country, your _people_ – you who hide in the ruins of a people whom Hyrule _destroyed_.”

Zelda flinches, as though Ganondorf has struck her. She draws herself to her full height – taller than Link, but still far shorter than Ganondorf is. “I did,” she starts, her voice as cold as ice, “what I thought was _wise_.” She touches her hand at the last word; it’s covered, like Ganondorf’s, and Link doesn’t miss how both of them glance towards his bare hands. Zelda continues, “I should not expect someone such as you to understand wisdom.”

“Yes,” he snarls. “Yes, beasts like me, we only understand _power_.” He laughs, mockingly, _cruelly_.

“No,” Link says, and his voice seems to ring across the desert. “No,” he murmurs, quieter, as they turn to him. “You’re not like that,” he continues. He feels very young under their gazes, for all he’s nearly twice their ages. “You are not kind, but you are proud. You do not look at the people in the gutter and kick them aside. You keep your anger banked as best you can; you know restraint. You love,” and his voice cracks about the word, “as deeply as I have ever seen. You are no beast, and I will have no-one call you one, not even yourself.”

It is the most Link has ever said at one time. He almost wishes he could force them back down his throat – Link is not made for speeches like this.

That sharp fire is in Ganondorf’s eyes again; it is not altogether a surprise when he curls a hand around the back of Link’s neck and draws him into a bruising kiss. Ganondorf growls into it, slants his lips and crushes their mouths together. His other hand settles on Link’s back, and holds him tight against Ganondorf’s body; every inch of him feels like fury leashed, contained and constrained, but never quite gone.

The itch beneath Link’s skin falls silent.

 

Zelda follows them out of the desert. She’s quiet, distracted; Ganondorf spares her a handful of glances, but every time he turns back to Link.

Zelda asks how old Link is, and seems surprised when he tells her is nearly thirty-three. He does not feel thirty-three, nor even thirty-two, but then, neither Zelda nor Ganondorf seem to be their ages either.

Epona races up to meet Link, nickering and tossing her head, and Black Beauty nudges his nose against Ganondorf’s shoulder until Ganondorf obligingly gives him a scratch. No horse comes for Zelda; she watches them, curiously, and seems especially concerned about Ganondorf.

Link offers her his hand to mount Epona – there’s no question of her riding with Ganondorf – and doesn’t miss the way Ganondorf’s shoulders tense. Not too long ago, it was him who Link was hauling onto Epona’s back. Hopefully, Zelda is a better rider than Ganondorf was.

She certainly has fewer qualms about hanging onto Link, especially since they’re riding bareback. Ganondorf rides ahead, his hair and Black Beauty’s tail as banners in the wind, leading the way back to where they left their horses saddles.

“Do you trust him?” Zelda asks. The wind snatches her words away, so Ganondorf cannot hear them.

Link smiles. “Yes.”

 

Ganondorf does not kiss Link again. His eyes linger sometimes, but they linger as often on the Princess.

It had taken Link a little time to realise it, but when he looks at Zelda, he feels much the same as when he looks at Ganondorf. There is something he wants for himself, and he has found it with them.

The itch is quiet. Not quite gone, and there is still something he should be doing, something he’s forgotten, but the urge is gentler now. There is no place else for him to be; again, Link feels as if he could no more abandon one of them than tear the sun from the sky, or call the moon down to the earth. Caught here between them is more of a home than any Link has ever known.

He will not give it up lightly.

 

Zelda seems shocked when Ganondorf returns from one of the villages, laden with food and other supplies, and with rumours of a great dragon terrorising the nearby farmers. She’s even more surprised when Ganondorf suggests killing it – he gives her an unimpressed look and says, “This is what we _do_ , Princess. This is all we’ve ever done.”

“Come with us,” Link asks, and though she frowns and looks askance at Ganondorf, she does.

Her skills lie largely in the bow, though she has a long, thin rapier as well. Part way through the dragon’s stolen keep, she reveals no small talent for magic; Ganondorf snarls at her, asking why she hadn’t used it earlier, and their arguing provides the background noise for Link to solve a handful of puzzles before they can proceed.

That’s not to say that Zelda ignores the many traps littered throughout the castle – unlike Ganondorf, she has the patience for them, and points out details Link had missed at first.

When they reach the dragon, Link presses his arrows into her hand, and then waits as Ganondorf scales one of the broken pillars. Zelda gasps when Ganondorf leaps onto the dragon’s back, and almost misses Link’s call for her to fire; assaulted from its back, and wings pierced with many arrows, it isn’t long until the dragon falls from the sky and Link can deliver the final blow. Ganondorf jumps down beside him, the dragon’s blood staining his clothes and skin, and spares Zelda only a moment’s glance before sweeping Link into a kiss.

“She won’t turn you against me,” he growls, low enough that only Link can hear, before licking his way back into Link’s mouth.

Zelda clears her throat, pointedly. Ganondorf ignores her. She clears her throat again, and this time Link gently breaks the kiss.

“Later,” he murmurs to Ganondorf. “Later.”

 

They ride down to see the Zora; Ganondorf has always loved swimming, and he is off Black Beauty and tearing off his clothes even before Link has drawn Epona to a halt.

Zelda gasps when Ganondorf makes to take off his underclothes as well, and hurriedly turns away, ignoring Ganondorf’s laugh – he has never been especially modest. Link sighs fondly as Ganondorf leaps bodily into the water, splashing a few curious Zora.

Ganondorf only returns to the shore briefly, to unbind his hair, and then he is gone again, swimming steadily away from the shore.

“Strange,” Zelda murmurs. “I had thought one of the Gerudo would be averse to swimming.”

Link chuckles. “He was. I had to push him in at first.” It had been a lot like teaching him to ride; after falling in alone a few times, Ganondorf had become determined to bring Link down with him. Evidently seeing Link able to swim while still fully clothed had irritated Ganondorf enough that he’d forced himself to learn how to swim, until it got to the point that Link was hard pressed to get him out of the water once he’d gone in.

“Are either of you coming?” Ganondorf shouts. “I thought we were here to swim, not sit on the shore like Gorons afraid of water!”

Zelda frowns and abruptly gets to her feet. She strips down to her underclothes, but makes a point not to strip further, and then she runs into the water. Link finishes settling the horses before he joins them; they spend the afternoon alternately dunking each other, or racing the Zora around the lake.

It is a good day.

 

When Zelda’s hair is long enough to curl around her shoulders, she hacks it off with a dagger. It’s messy, as haircuts go, and Ganondorf glares at her hair as if it has personally offended him. Given that Link is currently braiding the long trailing length of Ganondorf’s hair, perhaps this isn’t so far out of the realm of possibilities.

“You could have braided it,” Ganondorf points out.

Zelda stares at him coolly. “I prefer my hair short.”

It doesn’t evolve into another argument; Ganondorf gives her a small pair of scissors, and tells her to fix her hair. She can’t reach the back of her head, so Link ends up helping out. Ganondorf offers a few snide pointers here and there, before eventually deeming it acceptable.

When Zelda gives thanks, it’s surprisingly sincere.

It startles Ganondorf enough to merely say, “You’re welcome,” and their camp remains quietly peaceful for the rest of the night.

 

The new King dies suddenly. He had been nearly fifteen years younger than Zelda’s father, and in good health; rumours abound about foul play. Even Zelda frowns, and her gaze turns towards Castle Town.

“I told you,” Ganondorf says, smugly. “You’ve abandoned your country, and now it will fall.”

“Hyrule is stronger than you know,” Zelda murmurs.

Ganondorf laughs, loud and mad. “Yes,” he says, “I well remember how it survives without its Queen. I remember it.” His eyes are like knives when they meet Zelda’s, and she is still as stone.

“Hyrule will not fail,” she says, with that same hint of truth. “It will not fall and it will not fail, not so long as-” She cuts herself off.

Ganondorf smiles unpleasantly. “So long as _what_ , Princess?”

Zelda does not reply.

Link murmurs, “Enough,” and urges Epona into a canter, leaving Ganondorf behind them.

At their camp he asks, “Do not bait her so,” and hurts when Ganondorf glares down at him.

There are no kisses that night, and the silence is heavy between all three of them.

 

Zelda’s cousin, Daphnes, is crowned King in his father’s place. He is a year older than Link, and there is a tentative celebration throughout Hyrule. There are whispers that the death of Daphnes’ father was caused by Zelda herself, but these are summarily dismissed.

The royal family of Hyrule has never been one of murderers.

Ganondorf rages when he hears the rumour; he rails against Zelda in every day conversation, but he believes in her right to rule far more than she does, and he will hear no insult to her.

“You should go back,” he says, over and over again. “You are a fool to stay away. Go back, Princess. You were made to rule Hyrule, and you squander it. You waste yourself.”

Zelda snaps, “I was no more made to rule than you were,” and that silences Ganondorf’s tongue in a way that makes Link uncomfortable.

There is something neither of them will talk to Link about. Memories, perhaps, or something to do with what they hide on their hands. Link doesn’t ask – it is enough to be beside them. It has to be enough.

Their arguments grow fewer but angrier the closer they draw to Castle Town. When they are a week away, Link is forced to purchase a horse for Zelda, so he can ride between them – Zelda, in a fit of pique, purchases a white stallion. It could be Black Beauty’s twin, but for the colour.

Soon even Link’s presence between them does nothing to dull their ire for each other, until at long last Link shouts, “ _Enough!_ ” He hauls Epona up short, and stares between them. “You... you are _children_ ,” he snaps, and his own anger surprises him. Words escape him, and the itch beneath his skin _screams_ , and Link can’t-

He wheels Epona around, urges her into a wild gallop, and ignores the alarmed cries from behind.

Before he is even ten yards from them he wants to turn back. Leaving them hurts, as nothing before has hurt. It hurts, but Link cannot bear to stay and listen to them tear each other apart.

Ganondorf catches up by nightfall; Zelda is only a minute or two behind him, and she is the one who draws up beside Link and takes Epona’s reins from his hands. He’d held them so tightly his nails have broken his skin.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “It is hard to forget.”

Link stares up at her with dull eyes. He has never asked. He will never ask. There are things between Ganondorf and Zelda that will always be a mystery to him.

Ganondorf lifts him from Epona’s back – he grew into his hands after all. Ganondorf cradles Link, like he’s something precious, and when he sets Link down he doesn’t move until Link has found his feet.

“Don’t argue so much,” Link murmurs, tiredly.

Zelda nods, taking Link’s hand again. She frowns at the cuts in his hands, murmurs something softly and then kisses the palm of his hand. There is a glow of magic, and when it fades, Link’s hands are healed again.

Ganondorf snorts, but otherwise doesn’t comment.

“Don’t run off again,” Zelda asks.

Link sighs, nods, and falls asleep.

 

Link wakes up, bleary-eyed, and he knows it’s still dark even before he opens his eyes.

Zelda’s to his right, and Ganondorf to his left; Link smiles and goes back to sleep.

 

Zelda’s cousin dies.

This time, Ganondorf’s jaw goes tight. Zelda pales, and her hands shake.

“You cannot ignore this, Princess,” Ganondorf says, and for once he does not spit the word out.

“I know,” she replies. “I know.”

 

They wear cloaks to enter Castle Town. Ganondorf draws his tight around his shoulders, and far down over his face. Zelda draws a scarf up over her mouth, and ducks her head when they approach the guards. Link smiles when they pass the guards, even raises a hand in recognition to a few of them, and they are waved through.

“You have many friends,” Zelda murmurs.

Ganondorf shakes his head. “He’s _helped_ many. I would not call them his friends.”

“They’re my friends and your friends too,” Link says. He laughs when Ganondorf looks away, cheeks tinged a little red.

“I’m curious,” Zelda starts, “why did you not travel with anyone before Ganondorf?”

Link shrugs. It wouldn’t have felt right. Not like it does now.

Zelda frowns. “Hm.”

“Do we ride to the gates?” Ganondorf asks, lowering his voice as they pass by the townsfolk.

“And do what?” Zelda asks. “If there is truly someone in the castle who wishes my family ill, do you not think they will leap at the chance to destroy me as well? No. We will travel to the graveyard; there is a passage there that will lead us into the castle.”

“And how many know of this passage?” Ganondorf asks.

“Only the family,” Zelda replies. “It was built so we might visit our dead more easily; we thought our grief should not be made a spectacle of.”

“Hn. It will suffice.”

There is only the gravedigger in the graveyard; the new King has been buried a week, and most mourn within the privacy of their own homes. They leave their horses in a nearby stable, and Zelda leads them a winding path through the gravestones and down to a long abandoned tomb.

“Behind here,” she says, and there, hidden behind the tomb and carefully shielded by a mat of ferns and grass, is a small trap door. It doesn’t open when Ganondorf tugs at it, and Zelda brushes him aside and hums very softly. There is a quiet _click_ , and the trap door swings open.

Zelda locks it again behind them, and takes a torch from the wall. She lights it with a murmur of magic, and then leads again – this time through a tunnel full of rats and long discarded skulls.

“Are we crushing your long deceased ancestors beneath our feet?” Ganondorf asks, smiling widely. The flickering torchlight makes his face look crueller than it is.

“It is unlikely,” Zelda murmurs. “These are thieves, or the remains from graves that have spilt into the tunnel.” She looks down distastefully at the ground. Ganondorf kicks a shard of skull past her feet – it skitters across the ground and knocks into a rat. She rounds on Ganondorf and snaps, “They do not deserve such disrespect.”

“Princess, whoever they were they are no longer – more people than I have crushed these bones, and I daresay they will take less offense from being broken beneath _my_ feet than they have at their royal family walking all over them.”

“Really?” Zelda asks. “I would believe the opposite.”

Link sighs loudly, and that’s when one of the skeletons gets to its feet and starts to lurch towards them.

 

After clearing the tunnels of skeletons and hideous shambling corpses, Ganondorf has a fine patina of corpse dust up his arms – he carries a sword, but he will always prefer his fists to fight with, and Link has given up trying to persuade him otherwise – and Zelda has been forced to replace her torch with a femur wrapped in a piece of her cloak.

Both of them glare at Link, who has managed to come out looking much the same as when he went in. Link grins and shrugs at them; after trawling as many monster infested places as Link has, he’s learnt a little about keeping the worst of the mess off of himself.

The tunnel lets out into a passage near the dungeons; Zelda drops the femur back into the darkness of the tunnel, killing the fire with a whisper. They creep through the low light of the dungeons, although Zelda murmurs that they are almost always empty – Hyrule rarely entertains criminals for long anymore, especially after the destruction- the _massacre_ of the Gerudo.

A chain rattles, and a door scrapes against stone. They all freeze in their tracks, even Ganondorf. Distantly they hear, “All clear.” None of them move. The door scrapes again, and there’s a dull _thunk_ as a lock clicks into place.

Ganondorf curses under his breath. “Are we locked in here?”

Zelda glances over his shoulder. “No door in this castle is locked to the royal family.”

Ganondorf smirks. “Really? Even the bedrooms?”

“No arguing!” hisses Link.

Zelda subsides slightly and turns away from Ganondorf, hurrying towards the stairs. Frostily, she says, “All bedrooms, be they for family, guests or servants, are safe. Only those _important_ doors were made this way.” She hums the same song as for the trap door, and the dungeon door swings open. “There are some doors that will only open for the royal family; I can only hope that their secrets have not been discovered as yet.”

Softly, bitterly, Ganondorf murmurs, “So many secrets for you to hide, aren’t there, Princess?”

Link tuts and pulls ahead of both of them – Zelda might know the layout better, and Ganondorf could probably disable any guards before they could call the alarm, but Link... Link has always been very good at going unseen.

“Stay here,” Link murmurs, slipping around the corner ahead of Zelda. She cries out behind him, and he just sees Ganondorf drag her back into the poorly lit stairwell.

“He’ll be fine,” Ganondorf says, just loud enough that Link can still hear him.

Link smiles.

 

On the surface, there seems to be little out of the ordinary. The servants are shaken, now mourning for _three_ kings instead of only one. They hardly seem to notice Link at all; they whisper, _where is the Princess, she should be here, she should rule, where is Princess Zelda?_

But then Link discovers this; Zelda’s remaining cousins, Nohansen and Hilda, have both been sequestered since before their brother died. Their doors are locked and bolted, and the guards outside their rooms are forbidden to speak. Servants bring up food and drink, but are not allowed to enter their rooms.

In fact, only one person can enter – the Chancellor.

Sometimes, infrequently, the Chancellor takes food and drink into Nohansen and Hilda’s rooms. But not often enough, and it has everyone in the castle worried. To add to their fears, the castle guard whisper that some of the guards outside the Prince and Princess’ rooms aren’t on the duty roster, and never seem to leave.

It takes some time, but eventually a footman tells Link, “King Daphnes was the same – ever since his father took the throne, all three of them were locked away in their rooms. There was not sight nor sound of them, ‘til their father died, and then they came only to the funeral and went back into their rooms.”

There is something rotten here, and Link has a feeling it will eventually all lead back to the chancellor.

 

Zelda and Ganondorf are still hiding in the dungeon stairwell – not arguing for once. Link looks between them, eyes narrowing. Ganondorf’s hair is slightly mussed and Zelda’s clothes are in disarray; both of them are avoiding each other’s eyes and have a light dusting of red over their cheeks.

Link laughs, happily.

Ganondorf scowls and Zelda clears her throat.

“Well?” she asks.

Link tells them what he’s discovered.

“But why?” Zelda murmurs. “The Chancellor was a good man – he was kind, gentle. I do not see why he would become....”

“He has,” Ganondorf says. “Whatever he was before, he is now murdering your family, Princess. The question you must ask yourself now is, will you let him?”

Zelda favours him with a sharp look. “Of course not,” she snaps. “I left because I did not wish a war for my sake; that does not mean I do not love Hyrule.”

“You have a strange way of showing it,” Ganondorf mutters.

“What now?” Link asks.

Ganondorf smiles widely. “We fight.”

 

Despite Zelda’s protestations, Ganondorf’s presence all but assures a fight – he makes no attempts to hide, and no Hylian was ever so tall, or had hair the colour of bright flames. Nor was any Hylian so dark skinned, and that was to say nothing of Ganondorf’s manner of dress.

So they fight, and if Zelda notices that Ganondorf pulls his punches, or that Link turns the flat of his blade on the guards, she makes no mention of it. The guards are of little challenge in any case – it is only when they reach the family wing, where Nohansen and Hilda’s rooms are, that the guards prove any challenge at all.

Ganondorf rips the helmet off of one, and in so doing reveals that the guard is not Hylian at all; its monstrous visage is more like that of a pig’s or a bokoblin’s, or some terrible mix of the two. Zelda grimly fires an arrow into the creature’s throat, and together the three of them tear through all that remain.

Zelda throws open the doors to Nohansen’s room first; almost immediately she stumbles back out, a hand over her nose. The wretched stink of ruin and decay pours from the room, and when Link glances within he sees little more than a corpse, all but stripped of flesh. A pile of dishes sit beside it, each still bearing the rotting remains of whatever food was once placed upon them – there will be no rescue for Nohansen.

Ganondorf’s jaw tightens and he orders, “Check the other.”

Zelda opens Hilda’s doors more carefully, easing them open. There is no immediate stench, but neither is there the sound of movement. The doors creak loudly, and Zelda walks in. Her foot bangs against a tray, and the clatter of cutlery and dishes makes all of them freeze.

Nothing happens. Slowly, they all relax.

Ganondorf bends to inspect the tray; like in Nohansen’s room, the food has rotted uneaten. Unlike Nohansen’s room, there is a fine layer of dust over everything. “No-one’s been in here for months,” Ganondorf says, rising again. They check the others doors anyway, but both reveal empty, dust covered rooms.

There is no sign of Hilda.

“I did not dream of this,” Zelda murmurs. “I did not see- how was I so blind?”

Ganondorf snorts. “As long as I have known you, Princess, you have always seen monsters in the dark.”

“And how often, I wonder, have those monsters been you?” Zelda replies.

Link is going to protest again, but Ganondorf laughs. “Not this time, Princess. Not this time,” he says.

Zelda lapses into silence; Link shakes his head at the pair of them, and starts towards the Chancellor’s tower.

 

It had always been something of a mystery amongst the castle staff as to why the Chancellor had an entire tower to call his own. Certainly he was important to the running of Hyrule, and a most valued advisor to the late king – Zelda’s father had claimed that the Chancellor was as good as family on more than one occasion.

But no-one could recall exactly what service he had performed that would warrant an entire tower, traditionally the domain of the Crown Princess, to be given over to the Chancellor.

Nonetheless, he had one, and no matter how anyone had gossiped, there was nothing to be done about it. The Chancellor ruled his tower with an iron fist; no-one was to enter it, unless on special invitation and accompanied by the Chancellor himself. Even the King had never deigned to test the Chancellor’s rule, and he had told Zelda – who had thought, many times, to attempt an exploration of the tower – that it was unkind for a ruler to invade another’s privacy so.

The tower door is locked, but such is to be expected. Zelda hums the familiar tune again, and smiles when the door opens. At Ganondorf’s raised brow she says, “The tower may be his, but these are no private quarters, and once these towers were used in defence of the castle. Zelda’s Lullaby will open any door such as this.”

“And which Zelda was it that thought of this?” Ganondorf asks, as they enter. “The first, the second, the third? How many have there _been_ , Princess?”

Before Zelda can answer, there is a shriek from above, and several of the pig-faced guards drop to the ground before them. Her bow is drawn before the first can even move, and the guards fall to fist, sword and arrow alike.

Zelda impales the last upon her rapier, before turning to Ganondorf and saying, “More than you can recall, O King of the Desert. More than you have seen and battled, and there shall be more after me, and we shall _strike you down-_ ”

Ganondorf snarls and stalks towards her, spitting, “ _You_ , Princess? You can’t even see what’s right under your nose-”

Link jumps between them, shouting, “Children!”

They both step back; some of the madness retreats from Ganondorf’s eyes. It will come back.

“I am no child,” Ganondorf mutters.

Link touches his arm. It’s just about all he can reach at this point. “Perhaps not,” Link murmurs, “but you two do draw out the worst in each other.”

Zelda bows her head briefly, before glancing around the room. There is a staircase off to the east; Ganondorf marches over to lead the way up the stairs. Link falls in behind him, and Zelda reluctantly takes the rear.

“It is so easy to remember,” she murmurs. “And every time I see you beside him... the wrongness of it makes me shudder. But I will try to forget, for you.”

Link replies, lightly, “You were getting along earlier,” and doesn’t miss the way the tips of Ganondorf’s ears redden just as much as Zelda’s cheeks.

“I’m sure you must be mistaken,” Zelda replies, after a too long silence.

They reach a door – before Zelda can move forward to unlock it, Ganondorf kicks the door in. It rips clean off its hinges, and slams into three monsters crowded behind it. Ganondorf is on them before they can recover; Zelda darts past Link, her rapier drawn, and engages a monster just behind Ganondorf.

Link pauses, sword halfway drawn, and then leans back against the doorframe to watch. Only one monster even starts towards Link, and it falls first to a sphere of light thrown from Zelda’s hand, and second to Ganondorf ripping its head off.

They fight back to back – for all their dislike of each other, for their arguing and sniping and anger, in this they trust each other.

Link doubts they even know it.

The air shifts after the last monster falls – two staircases appear simultaneously, and instantly Ganondorf heads north while Zelda heads west. Link cries out as they go, but neither looks back. Neither pauses on the stairs. Within seconds, they are gone, leaving Link behind.

He stands there, torn between whom to follow; this is far, far worse than their arguments.

“Come back!” Link calls – his voice fails at first, so he tries again, “Come back! Please!”

There is silence. It is impossible to choose one over the other.

“Zelda! Ganondorf! _Please_!” Link’s voice cracks. “Don’t _leave_ me!”

He sobs, falling to his knees.

Neither Zelda nor Ganondorf returns.

 

(In Zelda’s dreams, he had been clad in green. In reality, Link favours blue. He can rarely afford the bright, clean blue that Zelda expects, and in any case, it would get dirty or damaged. He wears simple cream jerkins, and sturdy leather boots. Most of the time he wanders cloaked and shrouded, a black hood pulled up over his head, although he rarely covers his face.

He is bright in her dreams, shining with an unfailing inner light – it had been easy to believe he was chosen by the goddesses.

In truth, he is not bright, and he does not shine. His smile is wide and kind, and he is generous to a fault. She is glad to have met him, but he is not what she expected.)

 

(Link is not fearless. This is what Ganondorf has learned – before he even knew what he was learning, he knew it.

Link is not fearless. He is not unafraid. He holds his fear close, and it hardens him and strengthens him. It makes him kind – many was the time that he would sit Ganondorf down, and gently clean and dress his wounds. Ganondorf had resisted at first, angry even to have been injured, but Link was adamant, and stubborn when he needed to be, and Ganondorf had learned to accept the bandages.

Only once did Ganondorf ever see Link uncork one of the fairies he habitually carried. Only once had he ever seen Link so afraid.

The fairy had been for him.)

 

There is a terrible rumbling from above, and a noise like stone grinding against stone. A roar, or perhaps a bellow echoes around the tower. There are screeches, and then footsteps – a horde running down the stairs. Or up the stairs? Link doesn’t raise his head to look.

Someone gasps, and there’s an explosion of light above him.

“Link!” Zelda shouts, and then she’s there, hands on his shoulders, “Oh, Link, have you been here all this time? But there is no time! Come! I have found my cousin – she is with me. We must go, Link! The tower is collapsing.”

Link raises his head and stares her dead in the eyes. “Not,” he starts, “not without Ganondorf.”

Zelda looks stricken; she looks back to her cousin, and says, “Run, Hilda. The lower floor should be clear of monsters – don’t wait for us.”

“But Zelda!” Hilda protests.

Zelda shakes her head. “Go!”

Hilda pauses for a moment longer, before lifting her skirts and hurrying to the stairs. They wait until they can no longer hear her, and then Zelda helps Link back to his feet and turns him towards the northern staircase.

“This may be his doing,” she murmurs.

“It isn’t,” Link says.

It is slow going up the stairs. Link’s strength comes back to him faster the further they climb, but chunks of staircase fall away beneath their feet and the walls and ceiling threaten to fall in on them. Zelda raises a barrier and does not bother to dispel it; she flinches every time a chunk of masonry falls towards them, and almost falls more than once, but finally they reach the very top of the tower.

The Chancellor is on the floor, twisted and broken. Great tusks sprout from his jaw, and thick fur covers his neck and shoulders; he would have been frightening, if not for the sword pinning him to the floor.

It is Ganondorf’s sword.

Ganondorf stands beyond the corpse, his cloak thrown from his shoulders and his back to them. In his hand he holds no sword – instead it is a trident, glowing with a malevolent light.

“ _Ganon_ ,” Zelda breathes, freezing just behind Link.

“No,” Link says, softly.

Ganondorf’s head raises at their voices; he turns sharply, and his features are twisted with a madness Link has never seen before. It is so much _more_ \- the anger, the rage, everything that is familiar to Link, all of it is twisted into something near unrecognisable. Worse than in the desert, worse than when he first set eyes on-

“ _Zelda_ ,” Ganon says, and Link can feel her flinch behind him.

Ganon sets upon them with all the ferocity Ganondorf had never turned on Link – he follows Zelda with a single-minded fury, ripping up stone and ploughing through walls to reach her. Zelda makes a few attempts to ready her bow, but Ganon is rage incarnate, and much faster than expected. It is all Link can do to keep himself between the pair of them. His sword catches against the trident again and again, and Ganon bellows with fury each and every time.

“Out of my way!” he snarls. “You are _nothing_ ,” he howls. “You are an insect, and I will _crush you_.”

It hurts – Link falters, just a little, and Ganon reaches past him for Zelda. The trident scrapes her side, and she cannot help but cry out. Link turns and shoves the trident aside, getting between them again.

“The trident,” Zelda says, “it’s the _trident!_ ”

Ganon roars, shaking his head. Ganondorf’s long, beloved braid comes free, and a mane starts to sprout across his shoulders – the madness on his face grows, his eyes blaze, and Link’s hand shakes around his sword.

Zelda fires an arrow over Link’s shoulder; it nicks Ganon’s cheek, and earns her a maddened shout of pain. “You must fight!” Zelda shouts. “You _must_!”

Ganon lunges at them, aiming to impale Link on his trident, and Link has to shove Zelda aside. “I....” he starts. Ganon sweeps the trident towards them; it tears into Link’s cloak and rips it from him. Ganon snorts, boar-like, and pulls the cloak from his trident.

“It will always come down to this!” Zelda continues.

“ _Yes_ ,” Ganon agrees, laughing. “This is our fate, Zelda. I will always rise against you. Always and forever, _Zelda_.”

“No. _No_ ,” Link says. He knocks the trident aside, steps forward to meet Ganon’s strike. “No,” he repeats, louder. “ _Not this time_! You said that! _Not this time_!” Link jumps, sword raised, staring Ganon in the eyes.

The world seems to slow around him. For a moment, it gets darker. Zelda is cast into shadow, the malevolent glow of the trident fades, and Ganon’s sunken eyes all but disappear.

Then light blazes forth, pouring from the back of Link’s hand. The glow is so bright that Ganon falls back, squealing, raising his hand to cover his eyes, the same hand that clutches the trident.

Link’s sword bites into Ganon’s bared wrist, and at the shock of pain, his white-knuckled grip around the trident falters. Link grabs the trident with his other hand and yanks it away, throwing it aside. It clatters to the ground beside Zelda; she only pauses a moment before gathering it up and, with a burst of magic, snapping it in two.

Ganon _screams_ , and a great rent opens in the roof above them.

“ _No_ ,” Ganon shouts. “I will not be thwarted! _No_!”

The stones begin to crumble beneath his feet, and Zelda reaches out for Link, crying, “We must go, now!” She hauls Link towards the stairs, leaving Ganon behind them. He takes a step towards them – the stone falls out underneath him, and he’s forced to stumble back.

“We can’t leave him!” Link shouts, over the terrible rumbling and creaking of the tower. He tries to lunge away from her, dropping his sword to reach out to Ganon.

Zelda drags Link back. “We have no choice!”

The ceiling falls in, stones crashing down around Ganon. He jumps back, trips over the forgotten corpse of the Chancellor. His head _thunks_ back against the floor – above him, a chunk of stone begins to fall.

Zelda pulls Link down the stairs just before it lands; Link’s thin, despairing wail rises above the sound of the tower’s collapse.

 

A story comes to the village.

It goes like this; many years ago, the advisor to the King came across an ancient, evil relic. He brought it before the King, and the King ordered it locked away, hidden, so that its great evil could not spread. The advisor suggested a different course – keep it close, barred behind locked doors, and give over guarding it to a loyal and trusted friend.

And so it was that the advisor was given the guardianship of this ancient evil.

He watched over it for many, many years without harm. But even the smallest time spent beside such a thing can twist a man, and the advisor spent decades alongside it. He resisted, despite temptation, and perhaps he would have continued to resist, but for the death of the King.

In his grief, the advisor let his guard down, and the relic was finally able to bid the advisor to touch it.

That was all it took. Once he had grasped the foul thing, there was no letting go of it, and he became a sick and twisted man. Eventually, he even began to take on the visage of the relic’s former master.

It was in this state that the advisor arranged for the deaths of the royal family. First the King’s brother, and then his nephews and niece, and finally his daughter.

But something went wrong – the King’s daughter escaped and fled, and though he searched and searched, he could not find her. An idea presented itself at last; surely she would return if her family was slaughtered.

So the advisor began to kill them. Again, something went wrong; the second son of the King’s brother witnessed his father’s murder, and had to be silenced. The first son was drugged, to keep him pliant, and his sister was sequestered away.

After the death of the first son, the Princess did return. But she did not come alone. Beside her came a man from the desert, and behind them followed a quiet wanderer. The three of them chased the advisor into his tower; they freed the Princess’ cousin, and then ascended to the highest room, where the advisor kept his ancient and beloved relic.

Ah! But there was another shock to come, for the man from the desert was, in fact, that relic’s master reborn. It turned on the advisor, and was reclaimed. The Princess and the wanderer were forced to stand against their former comrade.

They fought bitterly there, at the top of the tower. The battle was long and hard, but eventually, the man from the desert fell, and the Princess destroyed the relic that had started all this. As its last vile act, the relic crumbled the tower’s foundations, and it began to collapse around them.

The Princess and the wanderer fled to safety.

As for the man from the desert... he was last seen within the tower. Who can say what fate befell him there?

 

Link wakes up in a clean, warm bed. He’s dressed in a plain nightshirt, and his clothes are washed and piled carefully on a chair.

Link forces himself into movement, the last threads of Zelda’s sleep magic still clinging to his mind. She had had to, once the tower collapsed. The dust hard hardly begun to settle, and Link had already been clawing at the rubble. There was no time to waste.

Now it has been wasted; hope flickers, and begins to die.

None of the guards look surprised to see him when Link arrives at the ruin. They are digging carefully through the rubble, piling anything salvageable to one side. They ignore Link for the most part; one or two send him curious looks, but none approach.

Link doesn’t have the strength that Ganondorf has. He doesn’t have Zelda’s magic either.

But he has hands, and he has courage, and he will not leave his home to be crushed beneath tons of broken stone.

He works until the sun sets, and all he has to show for it is more stone.

 

Zelda has to lead him away again. She sits him down in a room overlooking the ruins, and cleans the dirt and dust from Link’s hands. He’d cut himself more than once; she breathes in sharply when she sees the extent of the injuries, and murmurs a spell of healing before Link can stop her.

“I’m going back tomorrow,” Link says. The itch beneath his skin won’t let him do anything else.

Zelda nods. “I will not stop you.” She clasps her hands over Link’s. “I only ask that you be careful. I did not- I _do_ not feel for him as you do but... I would see him again, yes, but not at your expense.”

She kisses his hand, lips brushing over the strange new mark that has appeared there, and leaves Link to watch over the rubble that could well serve as Ganondorf’s grave.

 

They find Ganondorf’s sword, still intact. The body of the Chancellor is nowhere to be found, and the sword is scratched all along the blade. Link takes it back to the room Zelda has granted him and _wants_.

 

On the third day, Zelda finds Link crying in his bedroom. She kisses away his tears, murmuring platitudes. “Do not cry,” she says. “He would not want you to cry for him.”

She speaks the truth. Always she speaks the truth.

Her lips are salty when she kisses him, and her eyes shine with unshed tears.

Link returns to digging.

 

In the end it isn’t even Link who finds him; one of the guards cries out after moving a wooden beam. It’s Ganondorf’s hand, and Link can’t help but fall to his knees and touch it.

It’s warm to the touch.

“Here,” Link says, and the guards and townsfolk and everyone who’s come to dig, they all hurry over and move block and beam and rock alike.

Link kneels in the rubble and holds Ganondorf’s hand.

It takes hours to drag him out, and he’s bruised and battered and broken, but there is still life in him. His chest rises and falls steadily, if slowly, but he remains unresponsive as Zelda orders him placed on a stretcher and carried inside. His face is creased with pain. Link uncorks his last two bottled fairies with shaking fingers, and tilts them out over Ganondorf’s quiescent form.

The fairies circle him warily, but once they’ve worked their magic, his breathing comes easier, and the furrows in his face begin to clear.

Link looks up at Zelda and asks, “Will you help him?”

She’s silent for a long moment; her, “Yes,” is so soft that Link almost might not have heard it at all.

 

The first thing Link does when Ganondorf wakes up is say, “You... you dumb _kid_.” He follows this immediately with a harsh kiss to Ganondorf’s mouth, which handily muffles Ganondorf’s protestations of adulthood.

Zelda sits on Ganondorf’s other side, gently holding his hand, although Link hardly gives Ganondorf time to notice this before he gathers him into a hug that would be a great deal easier if Ganondorf was still shorter than Link.

“What,” Ganondorf croaks. He squints at Zelda over Link’s shoulder. “I’m... alive.”

“Of course you are, _idiot_ ,” Link grumbles, moving away to stare into Ganondorf’s clear eyes.

Ganondorf stares down at Link, bemused. “What an... interesting experience,” he murmurs. “Alive and not imprisoned or trapped or bound-”

“Not this time,” Zelda says. She squeezes Ganondorf’s hand. “Not this time.” Her eyes sparkle, and she glances to Link. “Is it my turn now?”

Link nods enthusiastically, sitting back down beside Ganondorf.

Zelda smiles, and leans slightly forwards. “May I?” she asks, softly.

Ganondorf stares at her, wide-eyed, and nods jerkily. He continues staring as she carefully fits her mouth to his; he only stops when she rests her hand against his jaw and tilts his head just so, and then his eyes flutter shut with a groan.

“So,” Ganondorf says, when Zelda settles back, “am I to assume you’ve had a change of heart, Princess?”

“Perhaps,” Zelda allows. “But you should thank Link, not I. He was tireless in his search for you – it is difficult not to be moved by such a love as his.”

Ganondorf clears his throat awkwardly and won’t meet Link’s eyes. “Thank you,” he says, roughly. “For finding me.” More softly, he murmurs, “I knew you would.”

 

The throne of Hyrule passes to Hilda; the argument that occurs when Ganondorf finds out is loud enough to rattle the rooftops, and carries on for days. By the time it subsides, Zelda is refusing to talk to Ganondorf, and Ganondorf keeps threatening to leave – even having a building fall on him is not enough to slow him down for long.

Link deals with it by grabbing them both by the ears – this involves jumping in Ganondorf’s case, and when that doesn’t work he resorts to climbing on a chair – and telling them both that they’re being ridiculous.

Ganondorf’s expression sets. “She _should_ be Queen. It is her _right_. She is a fool to set it aside, doubly so after what happened.”

“And how,” Zelda says, icily, “should I follow the two of you around if I am duty-bound to remain here?”

Ganondorf’s reply dies on his lips. He stares at Zelda as if he has never seen her before. “You... Princess, you want to _join_ us?”

Zelda sighs irritably. “Did I not make myself clear earlier? Or have you been imagining that I gave up the throne on a whim?”

Ganondorf crosses his arms and glares down at her. “The reason does not matter; all that matters is that now another rules in your place-”

“Ah! And here I thought you would be _happy_ if I accompanied you! I see now that I was wrong.”

“ _Happy_?!” Ganondorf snarls. “Why should I be _happy_ that you are giving up _everything-_ ”

“And gaining something _better_!” Zelda snaps.

There is a ringing silence following that statement. Zelda and Ganondorf stare at each other, and Link looks between them. Slowly, he slides his hands into both of theirs – they both jump, like they’d forgotten Link was even there.

Eventually, Ganondorf asks, his voice reduced to little more than a croak, “Do you really believe that? Do you honestly believe that Link and I are- are _better_ than Hyrule?”

“Yes.”

Ganondorf’s hand squeezes tight around Link’s and he lets out a shuddering breath. “I....”

Link tugs lightly on Ganondorf’s hand. “Go and think about it,” he says.

Ganondorf nods slowly. He offers an almost tentative, “Princess,” to Zelda and stalks away.

“Well?” Zelda asks. She doesn’t sound nervous, but the tightness of her hand around Link’s serves to betray her.

Link hums thoughtfully. “We will be good together,” he says, quietly.

 

Their horses are saddled and ready before dawn; Zelda has already made her goodbyes. She mounts her stallion, and sits patiently, while Link gives Epona a final brush.

The sun is just peeking over the horizon when Ganondorf leads Black Beauty out. He favours Zelda with a long look. “I doubt I will ever understand this choice,” he says. “If I were in your place, nothing could take Hyrule from me. Nothing could drive me to abandon it.”

“I have _told_ you-”

“ _But_ ,” Ganondorf interrupts, “I respect you, Princess. You have always been a worthy foe – I should expect no less from one who sides against me time and again.” He smiles grimly. “But not this time, hm? Not _this_ time.” He mounts Black Beauty gracefully and sighs expansively. “Perhaps... perhaps it is time for change. Yes, we will see where this takes us.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Link mutters, clambering onto Epona’s back.

They ride out, all three of them together, and it is as it should be.

 

The itch beneath Link’s skin finally fades to nothing, and he is happy.

**Author's Note:**

> [some notes!](http://kratosaurioned.tumblr.com/post/123116682060/notes-for-our-kingdom-is-gone-more-link-is)
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> feel free to ask if you have any questions about things!


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